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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130240">Still Right Here</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villanon/pseuds/Villanon'>Villanon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Killing Eve (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:28:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,907</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29130240</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Villanon/pseuds/Villanon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You keep running but you're still right here<br/>Disappearing behind your fear<br/>You keep thinking what you need is out there<br/>Baby, but you're still right here...</p><p>It's hard to write a summary for a fic that just fell onto the page, but the whole thing is intended to take place in Eve's bed. Limited dialogue initially, but there'll be sex. </p><p>Dedicated to my amazing girlfriend of course, who I love sooooo much. You keep me writing and keep me from writing all at the same time lol.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beautiful_Ruin/gifts">Lexus (Beautiful_Ruin)</a>.</li>



    </ul></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It started on a Tuesday night. Eve remembers it specifically because she does yoga on a Tuesday, and on that particular week she’d pulled a muscle in her back whilst trying to do the cobra pose. So, she’d gone to bed with a hot water bottle nestled under the bridge of her spine, and woken up in the early hours to the cool graze of Villanelle’s skin.</p><p>Neither of them had said anything, because in the silence of night, when the rest of the world is asleep, there’s no need for questions or answers, and there’s no space for confusion. Her presence in Eve’s bed was unspoken and uninvited, but not unwelcome or unwanted. And at first they just lie there, letting sleep slowly dissipate from Eve’s body, letting their breaths synchronise, their chests rising and falling; and the whooshes of air growing louder and louder as they part from their lips.</p><p>Eve had wanted her then, had always wanted her of course, but having Villanelle had never really been an option until that moment. Or at least it seemed that way, hidden in the shadows and tucked away from the everyday, in the space reserved for nothing and no one, in the uncharted time meant only for sleep.</p><p>Eve had been the one to reach out first, the palm of her hand pressed flat and snaking out across the slightly creased sheets. Her fingertips had met the hardness of rib and the softness of skin all at once, because Villanelle is, as expected, all muscle and sinew under a velvet canopy. Eve had pressed her fingers further, spread them wide across her ribcage, delighting in the simple yet startling beat of Villanelle’s heart, which beats just the same as everyone else’s - yes, of course it does, and yet she’d marvelled at it all the same.</p><p>Villanelle did not move at all in that moment, her breath still pulling loud and deep, her ribs expanding and compressing, her heart pumping and pumping, faster and faster. Eve had wondered if she’d felt surprised or shocked, or maybe excited. Because Eve remembers that she herself had felt excited, but also nervous; so very, very nervous. So nervous it made her breathing go all stutter-y for a moment, and her hand – the one touching Villanelle – had bobbed nervously against her skin, not pulling away but not quite able to stay in place yet either.</p><p>“It is okay, Eve,” Villanelle had finally spoken; only her voice was so quiet Eve had almost had to strain to hear her. But she had heard her, and there was no mistaking the intention behind her words, nor was there any overlooking the permission she was granting; to keep touching her and to let herself go.</p><p>Eve recalls the exact moment she let go, when she’d rolled her petite frame so easily over Villanelle’s, how her dark curls had curtained around them and their eyes had met in the darkness. The gaze was fast and fleeting, and completely unintentional. In fact they did not look at each other like that again; because Eve had closed her eyes, and whenever she’d opened them it was to find that Villanelle’s were firmly clamped shut too.</p><p>So they had merged together that night almost blindly, mouths crashing against skin, hands grasping, bodies writhing and rolling, until Eve wasn’t really sure who was on top of who anymore. Their movements were not soft or tender, or kind, they were rough and urgent, and expectant. It was fingernails and teeth, scratches and nips, pleasure and pain. And Eve had wanted it to stop and never end all at once when Villanelle’s fingers were thrusting deep inside of her, their bodies pressed so close that the pressure was almost crushing, and the wetness from it all was snaking further and further down her thighs.</p><p>Villanelle’s strength and speed had been entirely anticipated, and yet had remained utterly and desperately overwhelming to Eve even as she came; and she came over and over again of course, with Villanelle still fucking her so effortlessly and relentlessly, fingers sliding in and out, and her thumb pulsing against her clit. And Eve had cried out, for more, for less, for what she didn’t even really know in the end, and in between her cries she had whispered her name: <em>Villanelle, Villanelle, Villanelle... </em></p><p>It was only when she could no longer cry out, when her body was limp and her skin was flushed and warm, and sticky, that Villanelle had stopped. Her fingers and form recoiling like shadows, like they had perhaps never even been there at all, and, after tucking the now lukewarm hot water bottle back under Eve’s spine, that had been it. Villanelle had gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dedicated to those of you who were lovely enough to comment and give me a much needed shove - thank you! </p>
<p>So, as I said previously this is set in season 2 but please ignore the timeline completely because I've re-written it to fit this story.</p>
<p>Errrr... I think that's it! Enjoy!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waiting for Villanelle to return reminds Eve of how she used to feel when her childhood cat Jelly Bean would go missing. There was really no telling when Jelly Bean would come home; it could be days or even a week or more sometimes, but the important thing was that Eve knew he would come back, just like she knows now, albeit rather inexplicably, that Villanelle will come back too. Knowing doesn’t dampen the keenness of her waiting though, and Eve finds herself lingering a little longer than necessary at her bedroom window each night as she draws the curtains. She leaves the window slightly open too, even though it’s January and the night air is so frosty-cold it goose bumps her skin beneath her pyjamas.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s silly really, as she knows a closed window will not stop Villanelle from entering if she wants to. Just like it’s silly that she lies awake for an hour or more some nights just listening to the silence, but hoping she might hear Villanelle’s soft footsteps on the carpet or maybe the rustle of bedsheets as she climbs in. Villanelle however is just like Jelly Bean, aloof and unpredictable, and soon Eve finds the nights rolling into a week, and then two, nearly three…</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They see each other in the day sometimes at work. Villanelle is usually dressed as Billie, all pink hair and fluffy coats, with her ‘annoying’ New York accent, and it’s the perfect shield to a conversation that’s probably never going to happen anyway. Because Eve can’t ask Billie about that night, in fact she doubts she could even ask Villanelle herself, come to think of it.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Villanelle visits again on a Friday. After a particularly long week at work, Eve is bone tired when she goes to bed; so tired she barely remembers to leave the window open when she closes the curtains, and so tired it’s actually a struggle to do up the small red buttons on her plaid pyjamas. She tumbles into bed soon after and almost instantly enters a dreamless sleep, a sleep that probably would have carried her straight through until morning were it not for the surprisingly gentle hand that comes to rest on her shoulder, and the warm mouth that presses to her ear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Wake up,” Villanelle whispers as Eve blinks heavily, her body rousing and her brain already whirring to decode the inflection in her voice. Is it commanding, or teasing? Maybe a little bit of both, she decides. “I brought you a toy.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s an odd scenario to wake up to, a shadowy figure holding a vibrator in front of your face, and Eve finds a moan escaping her lips; a moan briefly lamenting the loss of precious and much-needed sleep, a moan revelling in the long-awaited arrival of her house-guest and a moan, quite simply, at the promise of what is surely about to come.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Their conversation, if you can even call it that, ends there, as Villanelle pushes Eve over onto her back and flings off the covers. Eve expects to feel cold but it seems that Villanelle must have closed the window on her way in, and any opportunity to mourn the loss of her blankets is quickly eclipsed by Villanelle’s warm weight quickly straddling her hips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The vibrator, still in hand, is pushed into the mattress as Villanelle outstretches her arms and places them either side of Eve’s head, her empty eyes skirting the outline of her face and the halo of her curls. And even though Villanelle doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even look her in the eye in fact, Eve somehow still feels adulated and beautiful in that moment.</p>
<p> </p>
<p class="western">Villanelle recedes back slowly, hands running down the sheets as she moves to sit upright, smirking slightly at the sight of Eve’s misbuttoned shirt. She makes quick work of undoing them and Eve feels barely conscious of her own movements as she shifts to slip out of the long sleeves, and then lets Villanelle discard the item haphazardly to the floor.</p>
<p class="western">What happens next is a blur, a blur of Villanelle as she puts mouth to skin, her golden hair spilling onto Eve’s chest and tickling her ribcage. It’s not like any invitation for sex that Eve has ever received; there’s no stuttering hesitation or awkwardness, no polite niceties or questions. Villanelle does not ask: <em>is this okay?</em> Because she doesn’t need to. It’s quite obvious that everything is far more than okay as Eve’s breaths begin to ravage her throat, and her heart starts to pound so hard she’s sure Villanelle can hear it too. Can even feel it through the sheer of her skin, maybe.</p>
<p class="western">Niko would always ask if it was okay; his every movement premeditated and uncertain, and clunky. It had been endearing for a while, until it wasn’t anymore, and Eve feels herself reignite under Villanelle’s fierce and fervent touches, her body more pliable than it has ever been as she loses herself in the utter <span>abandon</span> of it all.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The buzz of the vibrator is low and quiet, so quiet it almost slips into Eve’s subconscious completely unnoticed, but then Villanelle begins to circle through different settings and the quiet low buzz becomes louder, and louder, until it’s rhythmically pulsing on and off, and on and then off again. Eve briefly opens her eyes, her lids still weighty from sleep even though her whole body has never felt more awake or alive, or attentive in her entire life; and she catches the briefest flash of a smile. She really likes Villanelle’s smile, she decides there and then, as though this is maybe the first time she has ever really appreciated it before. Or perhaps it’s just the first time she’s ever really seen this particular smile before; one that is so full of unabashed mischief, delight and anticipation. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Close your eyes,” Villanelle instructs, still not looking Eve in the eye, because of course not. That just isn’t how this goes, it seems. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It’s then that Eve almost begins to wonder what ‘this’ actually is, but before the thought can truly embed its way in Villanelle is shifting back, guiding the vibrator between Eve’s legs, and she’s lost again.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>She wants to draw her knees up, but she can’t, because Villanelle is resting on her thighs; so instead her hips arch and jerk, and she swears she hears a breathy laugh from above her, but her own breathing is so loud and fast it’s really impossible to be sure. And she’s wet, she’s suddenly so, so, so wet, she can feel herself spilling out and saturating her pyjama pants.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Eve wants to be naked, Eve wants to be completely naked and she wants to come, and she wants-</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Villanelle,” she pants out, and just like last time it’s the only word that she can muster, and apparently it’s the only word she needs.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Villanelle rises from her and yanks her bottoms down, her lithe body curling around Eve’s as she repositions the vibrator back between her legs, pressing the hilt against her clit. And Eve can barely contain herself, can feel herself quite literally emptying as more and more wetness seeps out onto the sheets and </span>
  <span>stickies</span>
  <span> the top of her thighs. She feels hollow and full, and lost and found all at the same time, and just when she thinks she can’t possibly feel any more of anything, Villanelle slides inside of her.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>At first it’s her fingers, curling, pulsing, moving so achingly slow that Eve just </span>
  <span>lies there, her breath trapped inside her own ribcage. And she needs a release, she needs-</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Villanelle!” She repeats again, only this time her voice is noticeably higher pitched and maybe verging ever so slightly on a whine.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>If Villanelle hears her it’s not obvious as she continues the same drawn-out ministrations, the tips of her fingers occasionally grazing some deep, tickly spot inside of Eve that makes squirm and still in bizarre alternation. Eve doesn’t think she’s going to come like this, and yet she also feels as though she really, really might.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Villanelle, Villanelle...”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Her name repeats in her head and on her lips, whispered over and over again like a chant or prayer, or psalm. Whatever it is, it seems to its desired effect, as Villanelle’s hand suddenly withdraws, leaving Eve momentarily destitute and devoid of all touch. And Eve thinks she might explode; her feet beginning to kick restlessly under the covers, like she’s a toddler on the verge of an almighty tantrum.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Ssh!” Villanelle silences, the typically soft sound taking on a surprisingly sharp quality as it squeezes from her perfectly pursed lips. “Stop that. You are being very impatient, Eve.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Eve tucks her own lips together and throws her head back in frustration. She had been completely unaware she’d even been making a noise, let alone one that portrays just how keen she is; or rather, just how desperate.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>There’s a distinct pause, a gap in time where Eve struggles to get and keep a hold of herself, and eventually, where she begins to wonder if Villanelle is ever going to continue at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Villanelle does not apologise for the wait, nor does she even introduce Eve to the notion that it’s at its end; she simply resumes several moments later, guiding the vibrator towards Eve’s soaking wet entrance and sliding it further and further in; until Eve is so impossibly full she can feel herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, as another wave of warmth and wetness spills from her core.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Villanelle fucks her then, there really is no other word for it as she drives the vibrator back and forth at a slippery, dizzying pace; and then there’s her mouth, her mouth working its way down her stomach; and her tongue, her tongue swirling and circling her clit, until, until, until…</span>
</p>
<p class="western"><span>Eve comes, comes with a shake and a shudder and a shout, her hands fisting air, longing to reach out and to grab onto Villanelle, to hold her through it, or perhaps to be held through it; she isn’t really sure. But before she’s even started to descend from the summit of her pleasure, she feels Villanelle starting to slip away, her weight and shadow shifting from the bed.</span> <span>And by the time she’s come back to herself enough to turn her head, or to even think about trying to call out after her, Villanelle’s already gone.</span></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>As always, please let me know what you think!</p>
<p>I'm working on part 3...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>And so it continues...</p>
<p>Thank you for the awesome comments :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">It becomes a regular occurrence after that, Villanelle visiting her in the middle of the night, in the quiet, pitch black hours before sunrise and birdsong. In fact, Eve supposes that it almost becomes a habit; because she isn’t sure if either one of them could stop now, or whether it’s even possible to simply go back to how things were before. And who would want to anyway, she asks herself, who would ever want this to stop?</p>
<p class="western">Eve can’t get enough of Villanelle; her touch, her scent, and the way her fingers move when they’re buried deep inside of her. Yes, Eve finds herself utterly captivated by her; and she’s especially captivated by her eyes, which somehow manage to flit from alive to empty in a single blink. And Eve wonders what she thinks about in those moments; whether Villanelle’s mind connects and disconnects so easily too, and whether she’s even thinking about anything at all when she fucks her, or afterwards, when she leaves her. Because Villanelle never stays, not ever. It’s one of their unspoken rules; like not kissing on the mouth, or exchanging more than a few words; like Villanelle never letting Eve touch her. And that rule, Eve decides, is probably the hardest one to abide by; because she yearns to touch her, to make Villanelle feel even a fraction of what she feels when the whole world falls away and, for a few seconds at least, only the two of them remain.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Last week Villanelle wore a strap-on; the cock had been almost impossibly large, and Eve had been writhing all over the bed, legs akimbo and hips lifted in an effort to accommodate its girth. And yet, it still wasn’t enough; Eve could feel her own resistance, could feel the head pressed inside of her, could feel that it was deep, but not quite deep enough, pushing against her at a wholly frustrating and unsatisfying angle. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“Relax, Eve,” Villanelle had said, appearing totally unconcerned by the fact she was still only three quarters inside of Eve and had been unable to find a workable position or rhythm for several minutes now. “If you keep moving like that I will have to hold you down.”</p>
<p class="western">Eve had thought she’d been joking, had never even considered that Villanelle might actually go through with it; until she did. Villanelle had pulled the cock out moments later and flipped her over effortlessly, like she weighed next to nothing, and pinned her to the mattress. And Eve wasn’t sure if it was the change in position, if it was the fact that Villanelle was now fucking her from behind, or whether it was Villanelle’s hands gripping her hips and pushing her down into the bed that made all the difference; but whatever it was, the cock disappeared inside her as moan after moan had escaped from her mouth.</p>
<p class="western">Villanelle had moaned too; Villanelle who was normally so stoically quiet, had moaned almost as loudly as Eve. And Eve hadn’t given much thought as to why at the time, hadn’t been able to give much thought to anything in fact, but now she puzzles over it. Her desire to understand Villanelle and to know what turns her on, almost overwhelming.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>When Eve </span>
  <span>came</span>
  <span> Villanelle had withdrawn as expected, the strap-on discarded; and there were no lingering touches or whispered goodbyes, there was simply the sound of her feet hitting the floor as she slipped out of bed. Eve had expected to hear the sash window sliding open next, because she had become so accustomed to Villanelle’s exits that she knew it would take her fourteen steps to reach it; but this time, the fourteenth step had seemed to falter and there was a heavy exhale, and a scuffing sound, that she would later learn was Villanelle’s hand bracing against the wall.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">Eve recalls that she had struggled to sit up, still awash with the soporific effects of her orgasm, but she had managed it, somehow. And it had without a doubt been worth it to see Villanelle’s moonlit silhouette slumped against the wall, her back to Eve, as her left hand had worked tirelessly down the front of her pants.</p>
<p class="western">“Are you...?” The pointless, half-question had fallen from Eve’s lips without warning, and Villanelle had shot a quick, irked glance over her shoulder by way of response.</p>
<p class="western">Their interaction had ended there, and Eve had found herself locked in position then, unable to move or look away. She remembers now how utterly mesmerised she was by it all; by the way Villanelle’s head had tipped back, almost lolling; by the staccato of her breaths in the air, her breaths that had become sharper and shorter with each passing moment; and by the increasingly feverish pace of her hand.</p>
<p class="western">When Villanelle had finally reached her peak, her head had fallen forward so far that her forehead had pressed into the flat plain of the wall, but she had otherwise remained still, and soundless, and tense. So tense that Eve thought she could make out every muscle in her back, despite the loose, white fabric of her shirt and the thick cloak of darkness that had surrounded them both.</p>
<p class="western">It had not looked like a release, not to Eve anyway; it had looked more like an erroneous spark or short-circuit of energy, as though it had fizzled out too soon or misfired somehow. But if Villanelle was unsatisfied in any way it had not shown, because she had simply rolled back her shoulders, flung open the window and left; just like she always did, and just like nothing unusual had happened at all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hellooo!</p><p>Thank you for the awesome comments on chapter 3.</p><p>This chapter brings you Villanelle's POV and a litttttttle bit more dialogue :)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">Villanelle likes visiting Eve; she likes visiting Eve and she likes fucking Eve, but what she doesn’t like is the way Eve looks at her. Because despite Villanelle’s great efforts to avoid any and all intimacy, besides the aforementioned fucking of course, Eve has a very intimate gaze. A very intimate and very expectant gaze, actually. Like she’s just waiting for Villanelle to crack, or to bend, or to yield; and Villanelle has no plans to do any of those things. Ever.</p><p class="western">Masturbating in Eve’s bedroom had not been part of the plan, it was, as much as it pained Villanelle to admit, a mistake. Her first mistake, for the record, but, also for the record, most certainly her last. She’d decided as much before she’d even climbed out of Eve’s window that night, her fingers still wet as they’d grappled with the white wooden frame and her legs still shaking. It would have been a pretty undignified exit for anyone else, she imagines, but not for her because she knew Eve was still watching, and – most importantly – still expecting. And as long as she has that, as long as she has Eve wanting more of her – no – needing more, she still has control. And control is everything; control takes great strength and power, but it also gives great strength and power too, and Villanelle really likes having both those things. Especially when it comes to Eve.</p><p class="western">Villanelle would like to say she didn’t visit Eve again for a few weeks after that, and she’d like to say she didn’t even think about Eve at all outside of work. But of course she did, on both counts, and in reality she can barely make it through two days before going back for more.</p><p class="western">In the end she manages three, because two really is pathetic; so that’s seventy-two hours without Eve. Or at least, without fucking Eve, although she thinks about fucking her a lot in that time and in all sorts of places. Pretty much all she thinks about is Eve actually, and it’s becoming a bit of a problem. Sometimes the thought-fucking of Eve gives way to other things, like holding Eve, or Eve holding her, and those are the worst thoughts. The most distracting and most unwanted thoughts. Those are the thoughts that creep in late at night when she can’t sleep, or first thing in the morning when she’s doing something innocuous like brushing her hair. She thinks about how she’d like Eve to brush her hair, or to stroke her back, or to kiss – no. No, no, no.</p><p class="western">She gets hurt in the end of course, on a routine job, a job she could do with her eyes shut. Only, her eyes had been open on this particular occasion, it was just that her head had been somewhere else. And her heart had been somewhere else too; and she knows that’s true because normally when she kills someone she gets a rush, and her heart starts pumping faster than she can possibly count. But now it only does that when she’s with Eve; damn it.</p><p class="western">So, when she visits Eve that night, a lot earlier than she should and feeling a lot more needy than she should, it’s with a swollen right cheek, and a split lip and a spattering of fingerprint sized bruises around her neck. And she silences Eve before she can ask, of course, pressing a firm finger to the centre of Eve’s barely parted mouth.</p><p class="western">“It was nothing,” she offers, which is also more than she should. “I just got distracted.”</p><p class="western">“You don’t-” Eve starts talking through the press of Villanelle’s finger, her words thicker and more muffled as a result. Eve pushes her hand away then, and it’s unexpected and strange, and their hands just sort of rest together in mid-air, their fingers webbed and frozen. “You don’t get distracted.”</p><p class="western">Villanelle wants to run. Villanelle wants to run, but instead all she says is:</p><p class="western">“I know.” And then they stare at each other, stare at each other for the first time since all this started, their eyes unblinking and their hands still unmoving.</p><p class="western">It’s too much, Villanelle decides, and it’s not what she came here for.</p><p class="western">“Get on your hands and knees,” she says after a beat too long, “I am going to fuck you until you are begging me to stop.”</p><p class="western">Villanelle thinks for a moment that Eve will not move, that their eyes and hands might never part again, that this is it, the beginning of what will ultimately be her end. But Eve does move, slow and cat-like she crawls from under the covers, eventually settling at the end of the bed, hips raised and inviting.</p><p class="western">Villanelle wants to overwhelm Eve, there really is no other word for it. She kneels behind her, and presses her full weight against her, blowing warm breaths against her neck as she licks and kisses any and all of the bare skin she can find. It feels almost animalistic, the way she’s consuming her and, just like that, her heart finally returns after its seventy-two hour departure, drumming a predictably rapid beat. And it’s in that way, and that way alone, that fucking Eve feels an awful lot like killing Eve, too.</p><p class="western">If Eve is going to die, Villanelle wants to make sure it’s a fabulous death. A drawn-out and memorable death, one that leaves Eve so thankful to be lifeless at the end of it all. So, she fucks her with only her fingers this time, pumping them in and out over and over, alternating between deep and shallow, and rough and rougher; because she does not do soft and she does not go gentle.</p><p class="western">She fucks Eve like that for so long that her hand goes past aching and cramping, and ends up somewhere between tingling and numbness, and Eve’s voice is almost hoarse from the repeated gasping and yelling of Villanelle’s name.</p><p class="western">When she finally lets her come, she makes her come again almost straight after, and then again. She makes Eve come so many times she stops keeping track, she just keeps on fucking her. Even when Eve eventually flops down onto the mattress and rolls over onto her stomach, the picture of total submission and surrender, Villanelle does not stop.</p><p class="western">“Villanelle, I, it’s, I can’t, I,” Eve hisses incoherently, as Villanelle sends her over the edge again, her pace still not slowing.</p><p class="western">“I told you, you’d have to beg me to stop.” The reminder only seems to work Eve up more, and even Villanelle is a little surprised when another wave takes her. “Again, Eve? Really?” She folds her lips together, wetting them from the inside before she speaks again; trying her best to ignore the metallic tang from her cut. “You like that, hmm? You like the thought of begging me.”</p><p class="western">“Ohh,” Eve breathes out, as though some small part of her just gave way, and Villanelle feels a fresh flood of her own wetness as Eve’s muscles involuntarily tighten around her fingers for the umpteenth time that night. “Please.”</p><p class="western">“Please, what?” Villanelle throws back, still sliding her fingers in and out, knowing that Eve can’t possibly take much more but taking great delight in feigning ignorance all the same. And, before Eve even has a chance to answer, Villanelle diverts her attention back to her clit; pulsing and pressing, until another shudder and loud gasp spills from Eve.</p><p class="western">“Villanelle, please, I-” Eve is squirming beneath her now, her curls knotted and frizzy, and her complexion flushed. “Please stop, I can’t, it’s too much, please-”</p><p class="western">“Okay,” Villanelle grants softly, pulling her hands away sharply as though Eve is suddenly too hot to touch; because it’s easier that way, yes, it’s so much easier now.</p><p class="western">Villanelle rises from the bed as though she’s just finished some completely mundane act, like fluffing a misshapen pillow, and turns towards the window. She knows that Eve will not try to stop her; and could not try to stop her quite frankly even if the notion took hold, because Eve has been fucked completely senseless. And the thought makes Villanelle smile.</p><p class="western">“Wait,” Eve’s husky, breathless voice calls out, and Villanelle freezes instantly; closer to stunned than surprised. “Stay? Or at least masturbate on my bed this time.”</p><p class="western">It’s a hollow attempt at humour, and Villanelle meets it with an equally hollow laugh as she glances back over her shoulder.</p><p class="western">And then she sees it; the look, the expectation, and she knows for sure that she still has it.</p><p class="western">She still has control.</p><p class="western">“Goodnight, Eve.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Your comments mean the world, so please let me know what you think!</p><p>I have started part 2, but could do with a shove or else this will possibly be a one shot (oops)...</p></blockquote></div></div>
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